Back From Broken
by alwaysbemyKonstantine
Summary: After Randy's wife leaves him Vince suggests that he visit WWE's resident psychologist. Can Sara bring him back to the top of his game before he sabotages everything he has worked so hard to achieve?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:**

**Forget everything you know (championship runs, tag teams, etc.). I'm rewriting history and I make no apologies. Also, I own nothing but my original characters. All others belong to Vince McMahon, or themselves. Thank you and enjoy!**

A/N: Although it's already been posted, I've made a few minor changes to the content of this chapter. I suggest you re-read, but the decision is up to you.

Happy reading!

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><p><em>No man is an island<br>No man is a fool  
>When he finds himself a woman<br>And she helps him carry through_

_ - Jack's Mannequin_

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><p>Randy Orton was no stranger to losing matches. He'd had his shoulders pinned to the mat many times before his meteoric rise to the top of the WWE. Losing he could handle.<p>

What made his blood boil as he tossed another chair against the wall, sending the wooden legs flying off in various directions, was the phone call from his wife informing him that she was moving the rest of her belongings out of their Tampa home.

With no more furniture left to feel his wrath, his fist connected with the mirror, the glass shattering to the floor. A few drops of blood dripped from his knuckles as he fell to his knees, the exhaustion of his handiwork engulfing his body like a straight jacket.

The door to the locker room flew open to reveal John Cena, breathing heavily.

"Randy, what the hell –" the remaining words died on his lips as he glanced around the room, eyeing Randy's destruction.

"Sam moved out."

With those three words John understood what had sent his best friend into a blind rage. He picked up a piece of what had once been Randy's cell phone.

"How do you know?"

"She called right after my match. Wanted me to know she'd mail the keys back when she gets settled in her new place."

_"Classy move, Samantha. Kick the man while he's already down," _John thought to himself.

While he had never been one of Samantha Orton's biggest fans, he knew how much Randy loved her. Randy had always done whatever he could to keep his wife happy, but nothing every seemed good enough for her.

"Go get your hand cleaned up, I'll get someone to take care of this mess and we'll go get a drink."

"You buying?" Randy asked as he appraised the damage to his hand. His knuckles had already begun to turn a nasty shade of purple.

"Yep."

"Then you're on," Randy replied as he got to his feet.

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><p>Meanwhile, up the hall Sara Hunter wrapped up a phone call.<p>

"Love you too. Tell Chelle I miss her. Bye."

Although she enjoyed traveling around the country, the weekly call to catch up with her dad always made her feel a little homesick. A loud sigh escaped her lightly glossed lips as she shoved her ever-growing pile of paperwork into the black snakeskin briefcase sitting atop her desk.

Her temporary office was the size of small walk-in closet (and that was giving it far more credit than it deserved). She hadn't noticed how cramped the space was when she'd arrived earlier that morning, but twelve hours later it felt as though the walls were closing in on her. She had to talk to Vince about getting larger rooms in the future. It was no easy fete squeezing her own 5'10" frame along with a 6' tall superstar into such tight quarters. Getting most of them to open up to her was hard enough without her practically sitting in their laps.

She pulled her blonde hair into a high ponytail using the elastic band around her wrist. Throwing her bag over her shoulder, she reached over to turn off the light. As she closed the door she spotted John Cena talking to someone as he pointed down the hallway.

He looked her way, his trademark smile (the one that sent millions of women into a frenzy each week) slowly spread across his handsome face. Finishing his conversation he strode over, planting a sweet kiss on her cheek.

"Fancy running into you here."

"My office," she said motioning to the door behind her, "For today, anyway."

"Busy day?" John asked, bringing his fingers up to lightly massage the nape of her neck.

"Yes. And so glad it's over."

Eight hours worth of appointments had left her little time for anything else, including lunch. The salad she'd picked up that morning at the deli around the corner was still sitting untouched in the bottom of her briefcase. She hoped John couldn't hear her stomach growling.

"Are you, me and Nattie still on for dinner?"

"Actually there's been a change in plans. But I'm sure you and Nat can survive without me."

"Everything okay?" she asked as he moved his hand from her neck to pinch the bridge of his nose.

The headache John thought he'd conquered earlier that day was back with vengeance, if the pounding in his ears was any indication. No thanks, he thought, to his match that night.

"Yeah. Just taking Randy out for a drink." After, of course, he tracked down the company physician and got his hands on some pain medicine.

"We'll miss you," she told him sadly as she snaked her arms around his waist.

John returned the hug, pressing his lips gently to her temple. Reluctantly, Sara stepped out of his embrace and watched him walk away. After a few steps he stopped and turned around, smiling.

"Don't go starting any lingerie pillow fights until I get back," he said with a wink.

"That's a nice fantasy world you're living in, Johnny."

"A man can dream," he replied continuing down the hall, Sara's laugh following him the whole way. It was so good to hear that sound again.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Again I say, I've made a few minor changes to the content of this chapter. I suggest you re-read, but the decision is up to you.

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><p>John stumbled through the front door of the hotel as he struggled to support Randy, who had his arm thrown haphazardly around John's neck. John dipped his head to avoid being further soaked by the clear liquid that dripped down Randy's face. Randy's hair, normally gelled to perfection, was sticking out in all directions. The result of a headlock, courtesy of the bar's hefty bouncer who'd caught Randy trying to drink from the tap behind the bar. A half-eaten lime still stuck to his forehead.<p>

"What are we doing here?" Randy yelled, ignoring John's best efforts to keep him quiet. At least until they reached the privacy of the elevator.

"We're back at the hotel."

Lucky for them the lobby was empty, except for the front desk clerk whose freckled face was obstructed by a thick fashion magazine. An elderly couple passed them on their way out into the night. John didn't have time to imagine where they might be headed. Randy had stopped to bend over a trash can, emptying the remaining contents of his stomach.

John glanced down at his watch. 1:30am. It had only taken Randy a little over an hour to get them kicked out of the bar. That had to be a new record. Looking up he saw the disgusted face of the clerk and offered her an apologetic smile. He had to get Randy upstairs before he was paying to have the carpet replaced.

"You know that girl was totally in to me," Randy slurred, wiping his mouth with the back of his free hand.

"Who?" John asked, dragging Randy the remaining steps to the elevator. He shifted Randy's weight so that Randy could lean against the wall, then reached out to the press the button.

"The blonde. Back at the bar."

"Dude, you puked on her shoes."

"I offered to buy her new ones," Randy countered.

Much to John's relief, a loud bell announced the arrival of the elevator. The doors slid open. John stepped forward then paused, considering for a moment leaving Randy in the lobby to sleep off his inevitable hangover. But Randy wasn't much of a morning person on a good day. The next few hours were going to be rough and John was the only one who could handle Randy's mood swings.

"Yeah, after you invited her to your room to earn it."

Randy smiled proudly and followed John into the elevator, finally able to stand without assistance.

"It was working until your ugly mug got in the way."

"She poured her drink on you and threatened to call the cops."

"Foreplay."

Tried as he might, John couldn't hid his amused smile as he pressed the button for the 26th floor and the elevator doors began to close.

"Alright Playboy, time for bed."

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><p>"Turn that damn light off. I'm trying to sleep," Randy yelled, throwing the blanket over this head.<p>

"That's the sun."

"Turn it off."

"Sure, buddy," John said, rolling his eyes.

Mornings with Randy were like dealing with a sullen teenager. John wasn't sure why he punished himself by sharing a room with him. Especially when he could be sharing his evenings with the gorgeous blonde down the hall.

"_Down boy,"_ John scolded himself silently. If he got thinking about those curves and all the delicious things he'd love to do to them, he'd be taking a cold shower before he even hit the gym. A very cold shower.

"Get your drunken carcass out of bed. I'm not missing the gym again because of you."

"I ain't going," came Randy's muffled reply from under the covers.

"Have it your way, man," John said, throwing a thick stack of paper onto Randy's bed, "By the way, Steph sent over tonight's script. But I wouldn't be surprised if she's already making changes."

"Whatever."

"I'm leaving for the arena in an hour. If you're not ready, you walk."

John threw his gym bag over his shoulder and walked out into the hall. The door slammed loudly behind him.

Agitated at being woken up, Randy threw back the covers and sat up. Looking down he noticed he was still dressed in the same clothes as the night before. He didn't recall much after the bouncer had literally thrown him out of the bar. Who knew they'd be so sensitive about him taking a few complimentary sips from the tap. He was not accustomed to anyone saying "no" to him.

Running his hands through his hair, Randy spotted the script John had thrown to him balanced on the edge of the bed. He reached out and caught it before it hit the plush burgandy carpet. Skimming through the first few pages, his eyes settled when he found his name. He squinted, not sure he'd read the words right.

"What the hell?"

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><p>Meanwhile at the arena, Sara made her way down the hallway, careful not to spill the steaming cup of coffee in her right hand or the messy stack of files stuck under her left arm.<p>

After the morning staff meeting she'd approached Vince to discuss new arrangements for her office. Thankfully he'd offered her the empty room across from the "Writers Cave," where Stephanie and her staff of creative geniuses were already huddled together making yet another set of revisions to the night's Smackdown taping. Sara had always admired the time and energy Stephanie dedicated to her job. Especially now that Stephanie was in the second trimester of her fourth pregnancy.

Struggling to keep the files under her arm, she arrived at her destination thrilled to find the room was at least three times the size of her previous residence. By the looks of it Vince had wasted no time prepping the room for her. A large table and two comfortable chairs sat in the center. She settled down ready to make a dent in her paperwork.

An hour later a loud voice brought her out of deep thought as she mulled over the previous session notes for her next patient.

"I don't care what the script says. I'm not doing it."

Unable to ignore her curiosity, Sara stood up and poked her head out of her doorway to find Randy Orton arguing with Dean Malenko.

She'd spent a fair amount of time with Randy since she'd been hired. He was, after all, John's best friend. But he never said much to her. These days it didn't seem like he said much to anyone.

Dean attempted to calm Randy down. But by the looks of it, Dean's efforts only seemed to make Randy angrier. Storming away, Randy headed in the direction of Sara's office. She ducked back inside, unwilling to be caught eavesdropping. She stared after him, curious as to what had set him off. Her thoughts were interrupted, however, when her cell phone, buried under a pile of folders, began to ring.

With one last glance at Randy's retreating form, Sara began the search for her phone. Pulling it out, she saw a familiar name on the screen and smiled.

"Hey, Chelle."

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><p>Randy could hear the blood pounding in his ears. His fists were clenched at his sides as he tried his best to ignore the voices in his head telling him to hit something. He was furious. He couldn't believe the writers had him forfeiting his WWE title shot. He wanted answers and knew exactly where to get them.<p>

Not bothering to knock, he yanked open a door at the end of the hallway and came face to face with Vince McMahon.

"Randy, I was just coming to see you."

"Vince, we need to talk."

"Take a seat," Vince said moving behind his desk. He motioned to a chair next to Randy.

"I'm good," Randy responded, his anger palpable.

"I just got off the phone with Dean. He tells me you're not happy with tonight's script."

"Damn right I'm not happy, Vince. That merry band of idiots you call writers are screwing me. I'm not giving up my match against Punk. I've worked my ass off. I deserve it."

"No one is denying that, Randy. But I have to be honest with you. I have some concerns that your personal life is affecting your professional one. Last night is not the first time we've had to clean up your locker room. I want to make sure it's the last."

"Last night was different."

"You need to talk to someone, Randy. I want you to go see Sara."

"I don't need a shrink," Randy replied, his fury growing.

"She's a sports psychologist. One of the best. She used to work with the Red Sox."

"That's nice. But I'm a Cardinals fan."

"She can help you get back in the game."

"Vince, I'm not out of the game."

"Not yet. But you will be if you don't get some help."

"Vince-"

"She's expecting you at 10. Don't be late."

Vince's tone signaled the end of their conversation. Randy stood defiantly for a moment before accepting he didn't have a choice in the matter and left the office.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: A HUGE thank you to my patient readers. I had some trouble with this chapter. I knew how I wanted it to begin & end, but had some issues writing the middle. I hope you're not disappointed._

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><p>The clock on the wall behind Sara's chair ticked loudly, a continuous reminder that her first patient of the day was over 45 minutes late.<p>

After overhearing Randy's argument with Dean, she'd made it a point to watch his match on the large monitor set up just outside the gorilla position. He'd walked directly past her but gave no indication that he'd noticed her standing there. She wasn't sure if he'd purposefully ignored her (she knew he couldn't be happy about Vince's request that he come see her), or if he was intently focused on his match. Either way, she knew it was best to stay quiet.

A few minutes passed before the first notes of his theme music began to play and the crowd erupted in excitement. If he'd been angry, it didn't show as he stepped through the curtain and into the arena where thousands of fans chanted his name. From the moment he set foot on the stage it was all business.

Not long after the match ended and Alberto's hand was raised in victory, Randy reappeared through the curtain and just as quickly, disappeared down the hallway towards his dressing room.

She'd called John on her way back to the hotel at just after 1am and he'd mentioned Randy had already gone to bed. That had been almost 10 hours ago, she thought glancing at her watch. So where the hell was he?

Just as she prepared to give up hope, the door swung open and Randy sauntered in, dressed casually in a pair of red gym shorts, a black t-shirt and pristine white sneakers. A pair of aviator shades covered the dark circles under his eyes, which, even behind the dark lenses, she could tell were bloodshot. A mischievous smile kissed his lips but his body language betrayed his desire to be anywhere else but her office. She knew he thought meeting with her was a joke, but Vince's orders were clear. Randy had to learn to control his anger or face the consequences.

"Sorry I'm late, doc," he yawned loudly.

It was obvious he was anything but sorry. However, she refused to let him bait her.

"Let's just get started," Sara said, clearing her throat. "Since we don't have much time left, I'm going to cut right to the chase. I want to talk about you and your wife. I know that –"

"What the hell do you know about what I'm going through?" Randy interrupted loudly, "Huh, Lil' Miss Perfect?" His quiet indifference quickly replaced with irritation.

While Sara was not one to be intimidated easily, if she was completely honest with herself, Randy's sudden outburst had startled her. And she was pretty sure he'd noticed her flinch, as hard as she'd tried to hide it. Showing a man like Randy even one moment of weakness threatened to undermine her position and she knew he'd be quick to take advantage of it.

Pulling herself together, she squared her shoulders and fixed him with a firm stare.

"I don't normally discuss my personal life with my patients, but if that's what it takes to get you take this seriously, fine. You want to know how I know what you're feeling?"

"Whatever," Randy said as he made a show out of removing his sunglasses so she could see him roll his eyes.

"Five years ago the love of my life died in a car accident," Sara said bluntly, not bothering to sugarcoat the painful memory, "Matt and I had been together for six years and were planning to get married. I lost my best friend and the man I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with."

For a split second Sara saw Randy's expression soften, but in the blink of an eye it was gone. The walls were back up and his eyes narrowed.

"You think your sob story is going to make me feel bad for you? How is someone so screwed up going to help me?"

He stood up quickly, his movement causing his chair to tip backwards and crash to the wood below. The sound did nothing to break the tension in the room.

"I'm out of here. Tell Vince I said thanks, but no thanks."

Randy slammed the door a little harder than necessary, but Sara was too stunned to notice. Staring at the fallen chair she couldn't believe she'd just told Randy about Matt. She valued her privacy and tried her best to keep her personal life close to the vest. What had come over her?

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><p>He couldn't believe Sara had tried to trick him into telling her about Samantha. He wasn't fooled by that sweet smile or those baby blue eyes. He knew it was only an act to get people to trust her. But he was smarter than the poor saps before him. Though he'd admit a few years ago he might have laid on the charm and gotten her into bed, he wasn't that guy anymore. For better or worse, Samantha had changed him and he still loved her. He wasn't going to let anyone pass judgment on what they shared.<p>

Caught up in all the thoughts going through his head, Randy nearly tackled John as he rushed to his dressing room.

John regained his footing, shooting an annoyed look at the man who'd barreled into him. When he realized it was Randy, his expression changed to confusion.

"Hey, man. What are you doing here?" he asked glancing at the clock on the wall, "Aren't you supposed to be meeting with Sara?"

"I told Vince and I'm telling you, I don't need her. Or anyone else."

"Listen, man. I know you're upset. About a lot of things. But you need to take this seriously. Or you're going to find yourself working as a punching bag in FCW."

"I ain't going anywhere but up. Vince knows this company can't do anything without me."

It was obvious Randy wasn't ready to back down and John knew he was no match for his best friend in his current state of mind. However, he wasn't about to stand idly by and watch Randy throw everything away.

"Do yourself a favor and do what the boss says. And take it easy on Sara. She's just doing her job."

"And I'm just trying to do mine. So do me a favor and mind your own fucking business."

John exhaled loudly as he watched Randy storm away, sending up a silent prayer no one had the misfortune of getting in the Viper's way.

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><p>"You told him about Matt?" Natalie Neidhart asked, unable to believe what she'd just heard.<p>

Sara had spent the last twenty minutes filling the third-generation wrestler in on her brief session with Randy that morning. Natalie hadn't said a word until Sara spoke Matt's name.

"It just came flying out of my mouth. Before I could stop it," Sara explained, closing the door to their hotel room behind them.

"That isn't like you at all."

"I know."

"What did Randy do?"

As they reached the elevator, Sara was quiet for a moment while the memory replayed in her head.

"I swear, for a split second, he was someone else. I saw it in his eyes. Recognition. Of the pain that comes with losing someone."

"Then what?"

"It was gone. As quickly as it came. Then he shut down again. Tore out of my office like it was on fire."

Before Sara could say anymore the elevator doors opened to reveal John and Randy, who was facing the back wall of the elevator having, what appeared to be, a heated argument with his reflection in the mirrored glass.

"What's with him?" Natalie asked John, motioning to Randy.

"He was in the lobby challenging the doorman to a cage match. The concierge almost called the police, but I told her he'd taken too much cold medicine."

"And she believed you?" Sara asked, incredulous. It was obvious to anyone with eyes, or a nose, that Randy was plastered.

"Enough not to call 911."

Sara and Natalie smirked, confident John had used his good looks to charm the young lady at the front desk.

Randy, who'd grown tired of yelling at himself, turned to face the trio.

"What the hell is she doing here?" he demanded, shooting a disgusted look at Sara, "This is my elevator and I don't want her near it."

"Alright, buddy. Let's get you to bed, okay?" John said to Randy, taking a soothing tone. Then, to Sara and Natalie, "Will you guys help me get him to our room."

As John assisted Randy out of the elevator, Natalie leaned over to whisper to Sara,

"What else happened this morning? I think you broke him."

Sara shot her an irritated look, but all Natalie could do was shrug.

After spending the last hour listening to Randy dry-heave in the bathroom, they were confident he could be left alone to sleep without fear he'd get sick and drown.

Just as John reached out to turn off the light, Randy lifted his head from the mattress.

"Where's Samantha? She said she'd sleep with me tonight. She knows I'm sorry."

The voice was so small, Sara wasn't sure it had even come from Randy. It sounded more like a scared little boy. Sara and Natalie, standing together in the doorway, shared a pitying look.

"Sam's in California. You know that," John answered. As much as he wanted to sugarcoat the truth, he refused to lie to his best friend.

"Oh yeah. I forgot," came the same small voice.

A beat passed and Randy spoke again, sounding more like himself.

"Who's that?" he asked, his eyes on the doorway.

John turned to follow Randy's gaze and smiled.

"That's Sara."

"She's pretty," Randy yawned, as he lowered his head to the pillow and his eyes fluttered shut.

Flicking the light switch, John followed the girls out of Randy's room, "Thanks a lot, guys. I think I can take it from here."

"You sure?" Natalie asked.

"Nothing I haven't dealt with before," John replied, giving them each a kiss on the cheek.

"We'll see you tomorrow for breakfast?"

"You bet," he responded, opening the door so they could step out into the brightly lit hallway, "Goodnight."

The door closed behind them, echoing silently. Sara exhaled a deep breath, one she hadn't realized she'd been holding since Randy had looked at her, as if seeing her for the first time. She glanced at Natalie, who wore an amused expression.

"Everyone deserves a second chance, right?"

"Right," Natalie replied, with a giggle, "Let's go get some ice cream."


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N:** Hope you enjoy this chapter! I love reading comments, so leave 'em :)_

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><p>As much as she loved her job, the three days Sara had off each week were something she cherished. The extra day she'd spent in Atlanta with Randy had her downtime off to a dismal start. The moment she'd stepped foot into her townhouse in Tampa, she'd curled up on the plush sofa and fell asleep. Getting up only to shower and eat, she'd spent the remaining hours either napping or reading.<p>

Now she was back on the road. A house show brought them to a freezing town in the Northwest. She noticed, glancing out the window, a thin layer of fresh snow glistened on the ground. She'd heard a weather report earlier while at the gym that a few more inches were expected to fall before the start of the show.

The sound of the door colliding with the wall brought Sara's eyes to settle on the imposing man standing at the threshold of her office.

"_Only 30 minutes late today_," she thought to herself.

Adopting a smile and uncrossing her legs, she motioned for him to take the seat across from her. One of her favorite professors had instilled the importance of body language in therapy. He said opening the body up had a positive effect on the patients. Randy, more than any of her other patients, needed to feel at ease.

"I'll admit, I'm surprised to see you."

"Vince didn't give me much of a choice. Practically walked me to your door from the parking lot," Randy grumbled as he plopped down on the chair. Refusing to make eye contact, he starred blankly out the window.

Determined not to let his lack of interest deter her, she forged ahead.

"I want you to tell me why you think Sam left."

The request, as she expected, drew Randy's attention towards her. Their eyes met and she could see a faint, but unmistakable fire dancing in his cerulean orbs.

"You're the expert, you tell me," Randy challenged, looking away once again.

Sara swallowed a sigh she was desperate to let out. She'd underestimated the strength of the walls surrounding his closely guarded heart.

"Okay, let's start at the beginning. How did you and Sam meet?"

Randy whipped around, the flames now burning brightly in his stare.

"None of your damn business."

Sara raised her hand to ward off Randy's verbal attack, then thought better of it and lowered it to her lap. The last thing she wanted was to say or do anything that could be mistaken as demeaning.

"Randy, try to work with me. I just want to help," she said in a pleading attempt to appeal to his reason.

"You want to help?" he asked, leaning forward, his tone sharp, "Leave me alone."

He stood up, the chair rocking at the sheer force. His long legs had him out of the office in three strides. Sara waited for the slam of the door against its frame, but was met with only silence.

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><p>John was in the middle of a squat set when the door to the gym flew open and an irate Randy's fist connected harshly with the padded wall. John brought the barbell, which had been resting on his shoulders, over his head and lowered it silently to the ground.<p>

"Bad session?"

Surprised to discover he wasn't alone, Randy turned quickly at the sound of John's voice in the dimly lit room.

"You need to tell your groupie to back off a bit," Randy growled.

"Sara's not a groupie."

"You sure, buddy? She follows you around like one."

"She's my sister-in-law. Or, she was supposed to be."

Randy vaguely recalled Sara mentioning Matt's name the day before. A small voice in the back of his head pleaded with him to bite his tongue. But he was on a roll.

"So she thinks the Cena name means she knows everything about me?"

"What the hell is going on with you, man?" John asked, taking a few steps forward," Look, I know Sam leaving has been tough –"

"You don't know shit, John," Randy yelled, cutting him off.

John, taken aback by the venomous tone of Randy's voice, stopped dead in his tracks. Randy, having the decency to appear contrite, continued at a much lower volume.

"You've got Nat."

"We're not perfect," John admitted.

"Pretty damn close, if you ask me," Randy replied, dropping his head.

For the first time since John learned of Sam's desertion, he witnessed a genuine glimpse of Randy's broken spirit.

"Give this thing with Sara a try, okay? At least make Vince think you care about your job."

When Randy didn't immediately respond, John hoped he'd broken through the infamous Orton stubbornness. However, Randy finally raised his chin and opened his mouth, uttering the single word he'd made his signature over the last six months,

"Whatever."

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><p>For as long as she'd been a part of the WWE, Sara loved sitting in the empty arena listening to the muted sounds of the wrestlers preparing their matches. Whether in the front row or the nosebleeds, if she wasn't in her office or meeting with Vince, she could be found settled in the stands. She found it difficult to explain the way it soothed her nerves.<p>

The morning session with Randy had been another monumental failure at getting him to open up and she knew a few minutes ringside would help replenish her depleted energy. She grabbed an orange from the catering table and made her way down the freshly constructed ramp towards the ring, where her good friends Stephen Farrelly and Nick Nemeth were discussing their championship match scheduled for the live show that evening. She held her hand up in a silent greeting, smiling widely when Stephen blew her a kiss.

As she neared the bottom, a familiar voice, teeming with anger, echoed through the stillness of the arena. Three pairs of eyes darted towards the curtain at the top of the ramp, where Sara knew Randy stood arguing with whoever was unfortunate enough to risk his wrath.

"I'm sure they can use all the help they can get, but I need the ring."

Straining to hear, she couldn't decipher what the person on the receiving end of Randy's anger was saying, but whatever came out of his/her mouth set the Viper off.

"Do you know who the hell I am? I'm the fucking star of this show and when I say I need the ring, you better get out of my damn way. Got it?"

The sound of, what she was sure to be very expensive equipment hitting the ground and breaking had Sara running to the scene of the incident. By the time she stepped through the velvet curtain Randy had vanished. The remnants of a soundboard and a young and shaken road agent were all that remained.

"You okay?" she asked, placing a hand on his trembling shoulder.

"Yeah," he replied unconvincingly.

Sara kneeled down to pick up the broken pieces of metal, placing them in a plastic container she found nearby.

"Who's going to pay for that?" he asked from behind her, unable to mask the fear in his tone.

"Don't worry. I'll explain it was an accident," she assured him.

"Thanks."

Sara nodded at him before returning to her task.

* * *

><p>The backstage area was strangely quiet Sara noted as she walked towards her office. Normally people were bustling about, chatting loudly. However, at that moment she was sure she could hear a pin drop.<p>

As she neared the end of the hallway the sound of hushed voices led her to the room across from her own. The door was slightly ajar and as she moved closer, she could hear several people talking.

"I heard Sam moved out," came a soft female voice from deep inside the room.

Immediately Sara realized Randy was the topic of the conversation taking place.

"You're shitting me. When?" asked another voice, this one male with an unmistakable British accent.

"Not sure. But he's been moping around the last few months," the soft female voice replied.

"Poor guy looks like his dog died," a third voice, feminine and wispy, empathized.

"Serves him right. He didn't deserve a woman like her in the first place," a fourth voice, deep and southern, piped in.

"I heard he cheated on her, " a fifth voice commented. "Not like it would be the first time.

Having heard enough, Sara turned quickly, colliding with a wall of solid muscle. A pair of strong hands reached out to steady her.

"What's the rush, beautiful?"

Lifting her chin, Sara found herself looking into the deep blue eyes of her best friend.

John's teasing expression instantly faded when he noticed the deep frown marring Sara's delicate face. He brought one hand to tenderly brush a few errant strands of hair off her face and cupped her chin.

"What's wrong?"

"People like Randy. Right?"

"Yeah," John replied, removing his hand. "It's been a long read, but people like him."

Sara did not look convinced.

"Why do you ask?"

Sara glanced behind her then, shaking her head, turned to face John once again.

"Nothing. Just stupid gossip. I should know better than to listen to it."

John reached out to take Sara's smaller hand into his own and pulled her gently into her office. Once they were seated side-by-side on the small couch, he spoke,

"Listen, Sara. Randy came into this business with a pretty big ego. He rubbed a lot of people the wrong way," he sighed. "Me included."

He noticed she wanted to speak, but he continued, "But he's a different guy now."

Sara motioned towards the corridor, "Do they know that?"

"When you move up the ladder as quickly as Randy has, you have to learn to deal with jealousy and backlash. There are people who are happy to see him fall."

John could see the wheels turning in her head and he laughed to himself. He knew it was difficult for her to turn off the therapist part of her brain. He pulled her close to drop a kiss on the top of her head.

"Don't let it get to you, gorgeous. He'll let you in when he's ready. Patience is a virtue when you're in the orbit of Randy Orton."

Sara's expression lightened and a small smile appeared.

"That's an understatement."

John laughed.

"You going to be okay?"

"I'll be fine. Just need to think."

"Not too hard, okay?" John teased, dropping another kiss on her head before standing up and walking out.

* * *

><p>An hour later Sara still sat on the couch, crossing and uncrossing her legs as she hashed over the events of the last seven days.<p>

In the eight years since graduating, she'd had her share of complicated patients. The anger and hurt in Randy's voice was nothing new to her. But the violence that threatened to erupt from him concerned her. Maybe he was beyond the help she was able to give him.

After a moment of careful consideration, she picked up the phone on her desk. Taking a deep breath, she pressed a few keys.

"Hi, Vince. It's Sara. We need to talk."


End file.
